


When the Levee Breaks

by thatbigsinner



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Boot Worship, Caning, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knifeplay, M/M, Mindbreak, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scarification, Sex Slave Cloud Strife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatbigsinner/pseuds/thatbigsinner
Summary: In exchange for Sephiroth’s help as a Shinra representative, Nibelheim pays for the aid with the town omega, Cloud. Sephiroth decides to keep him as a slave, and endeavors to break his will.
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 8
Kudos: 142





	When the Levee Breaks

He had accepted many unorthodox payments over the years, but this was certainly a new one.

Plenty of people had paid him kind rather than cash. Usually, it was stocks of potions and ethers that townsfolk had no use for, maybe chocobos if the town was in an area where they were common. Never before had someone tried to pay him with an actual person.

“We understand this is… unorthodox. We would sell him ourselves and give you your money that way, but there are no good markets nearby. The nearest is in Corel, and he only just came of age. It’s still winter yet, we can’t make the trip over the mountains to get there in this weather. You don’t have to keep him, of course, you could sell him at market—he might fetch more than the price you asked us for, anyway.”

Sephiroth stared the mayor down until he shifted awkwardly on his feet.

“So you would have me do the work of selling him for you.”

He could watch the mayor fight back a wince.

“You  _ could _ keep him. Or maybe someone else, another higher-up in Shinra would like him?”

Sephiroth sighed impatiently.

“Show him to me.”

The mayor nodded and hurried to listen; it was rather submissive behavior from an alpha, but Sephiroth was aware he tended to have this effect on people. Especially civilians. He trailed the man until he was brought to a small house. Inside sat an even smaller blond, kneeling on the floor with his hands in his lap, manacled together, with a thunderous expression, despite the way his eyes were cast down. He seemed well taken care of, if a little thin. What skin was visible around his T-shirt and linen pants was unmarked.

Sephiroth stepped forward and took the omega’s chin in his hand, forcing him to lift his face. The blond was fighting to try and keep his expression even, judging by the way it would smooth for half a second every few moments, but it always came back to a look of fury. He was pretty, even with the anger marring his features. The mayor was right; he  _ would _ fetch quite a lot at market. Half the Board would want him as a plaything, and whoever bought him would be showing him off as a trophy for quite a while.

That thought was made Sephiroth want to keep him. He was not one to want something because someone else was interested, but taking something to deny it to people who he disliked? That he enjoyed. President Shinra always had an interest in young and blond, Scarlet loved omegas as pretty as she was, Heidegger liked them petite and breakable, Hojo probably had some project that could use a breeder with good genes.

Sephiroth had little use for an omega. He didn’t know any other alphas that did, but he for one took rut suppressants. It was the company’s idea—best not to have their General lose control and do something regrettable to earn them bad press—but he didn’t mind it. He disliked the idea of losing control more than he disliked the strange dreams, light sensitivity, and occasional nausea the suppressants gave him. But having little practical use for the omega didn’t mean he couldn’t keep him, just to stymie the rest of the Board.

Besides, he liked the look of rage on his face. Sephiroth knew exactly what it was like, to be caged and confined and to hate it. He wouldn’t wish it on others, but this was an omega’s role. He had no sympathy for the unfortunate circumstances; his own circumstances were unfortunate and no one seemed to care. He was owed more than he was given, and maybe it was time he took something for himself.

He’d have fun breaking the omega, the way he was broken, anyway.

The silence had hung as he thought, carefully inspecting the blond’s face, and delighted to find the anger never faded, only grew.

“I’ll take him,” Sephiroth said. He leaned down to grab the manacles and hauled the omega to standing. He was barefoot, and the ground outside was cold, but it was paved. He wouldn’t cut his feet, which meant he wouldn’t track blood into Sephiroth’s apartment when they reached it, so he didn’t much care.

“Thank you!” the mayor said, clearly delighted. He opened his mouth to say more, but Sephiroth waved his hand dismissively.

“I’ve filled your request, and your payment has been accepted. There’s no need for further interaction. I’ll be leaving now; contact Shinra if you need further assistance.”

Sephiroth dragged his prize behind him. He was pleased that, regardless of how the omega felt about what was happening, he appeared relatively obedient. He kept in step to the best of his ability and didn’t complain about the cold of the ground.

There was potential, here.

\--

“First and foremost, you will speak when spoken to. Is that clear?”

“Yes, master.”

“Use ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Did they train you at all?”

Cloud grit his teeth. As he was quickly learning, though, Sephiroth seemed to like that. It only irritated him further.

“Some. I was told my training would be completed by my master.”

“I thought as much. I will be keeping you myself. My orders will be followed. I expect, from the look on your face, that there will be backtalk and disobedience. I gather that you aren’t happy with the situation. Because I’m generous, I will give you a moment, now, to voice these grievances, and then I never want to hear them again.”

Sephiroth waved his hand to indicate that Cloud should go ahead.

“You can’t be serious,” Cloud said, hesitating.

“You’ll find I almost always am. Take the moment or don’t, but make your decision quickly.”

This was a trap. Cloud could smell it immediately. He knew alphas better than to trust this. Whatever he said would be twisted and used against him. He’d pay for it in the end.

But then again, he expected his master would find something to make him pay regardless. He was never going to get this chance again. He couldn’t spit in his master’s face, but he could do this.

“This whole situation is sick,” Cloud snapped, voice venomous. “Being an omega doesn’t make me subhuman. It isn’t right to own people, and you and every other fucking alpha that gets off on this idea are disgusting. This institution is a monstrosity, and you’re a monster for indulging in it. You were taught that it’s your right, but if you can’t use your own head to figure out that that’s  _ wrong _ , then you’re not just a monster, but a stupid one.”

Cloud pulled in a sharp breath after and held it, waiting for the blow that would follow. Only, it didn’t. Sephiroth just raised an eyebrow and smiled lazily.

“There. You’ve said your piece. Hopefully it was pleasant to get that off your chest, because I never want to hear another word like that come out of your mouth. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Cloud said, tone hesitant and disbelieving. He couldn’t believe he got away with that. He couldn’t believe he was allowed that much. Maybe Sephiroth would be more lenient than he was expecting. Maybe he was lulling him into a false sense of security. It was too early to tell.

“Now, I understand that your anger will make you act out and talk back, regardless of what you’re saying now. This is your only warning against that course of action. I will do whatever it takes to make you obedient. I will take your anger from you. There will come a day where you beg to be allowed to do anything I like. Unless you’d like to skip directly to that stage?”

This was the first test. Cloud bit the inside of his cheek and made the quickest debate with himself, instinct versus his training, that he’d ever had in his life. In the end, he did what he tended to when given an order he didn’t want. He pressed his palms to the floor and his forehead to the ground between them. It was disobedience to ignore the order, but the supplication tended to soften whatever blows would follow, if not get him out of them entirely.

He heard more than saw Sephiroth step around to one side and kick him in the ribs, hard enough he worried about fractures. It sent him sprawling onto his side, and he scrambled to get back to his knees, but the wind was knocked clean out of him. Sephiroth approached slowly, then crouched down in front of Cloud, pulling him up by the hair. When Cloud looked back at him, he wore a predator’s smile. He took Cloud by the chin, his thumb stroking over his lips.

“Once, I knew men who would have saved you. A powerful omega who had earned himself status, and his alpha bondmate, who was a kind soul. If they were here, they’d give me a list of rules a mile long for your care and upkeep and how to treat you properly. If I failed to live by them, they would have taken you from me. But they left long ago. Even the other one they left behind is too far from me; I haven’t let him close enough that he’d dare to interfere.

“There is no one left to save you. It is you, and I, and how miserable your life will be is in  _ your _ hands. Learn your place quickly, and you’ll suffer less. But I truly,  _ truly _ hope you’re as hard-headed as I think you are. I will watch you bend, and then break, and it will be much sweeter the more I have to work for it.”

\--

One of the first things Cloud was told was that clothes were not for him, not while at home. If he was taken out into the world, one day, then perhaps they would be allowed. But, until then, he was to be naked at all times. His body, as he was reminded often, belonged to Sephiroth. All of him—mind, body, and soul—belonged to Sephiroth; at least, that was what he was told.

When he mumbled his, “Yes, sir,” but looked furious, Sephiroth had just chuckled, and promised ominously, “One day, you’ll admit as much.”

He was given a cheap dog collar to wear, and that humiliated him more than the nudity. He understood the value of collars—they covered the scent gland and declared ownership. He’d always expected to be collared. But wearing a cheap one that clearly showed he wasn’t valued stung more than it should.

He could only guess that his indignation had been on his face because Sephiroth said, “It’s temporary. I’m having one made for you; you’ll need something proper to wear when out of the apartment. But until then, perhaps this,” he looped a finger through the collar and tugged, “will remind you of your place. You’ll get the better one once you’ve earned it.”

Cloud, privately, thought that he wouldn’t be holding his breath for that. Sephiroth read him too well, and if Cloud knew nothing else from his years of training, it was that his rage would never die.

They came to their first “disagreement” quickly. Cloud was well trained about kneeling. He knew furniture was not for him, and never looked at it twice. But he had always been allowed to walk. And now Sephiroth was demanding he crawl.

He had done what he always did when deliberately ignoring an order. He knelt and pressed his forehead to the floor and waited for whatever would follow.

This time, like last time, Sephiroth kicked him over. This time, unlike last time, he planted a boot on his chest and leaned down, looking at Cloud over his knee.

He said, “I warned you about disobedience.”

Cloud swallowed hard, looking up at Sephiroth in fright for the first time. The hungry, delighted look on Sephiroth’s face said that he enjoyed the sight.

He grabbed Cloud by the collar and began dragging him to the bedroom. The motion forced Cloud to either crawl, and quickly at that, or be pulled around by the neck. He chose to crawl, scrambling on his hands and knees, until they were in the doorway, and Sephiroth swung him by the collar. He tossed him forward, into the footboard that he smacked against before crumpling to the ground. He groaned and lay there for a moment before hauling himself back to his knees. When he got in position, he looked up to see Sephiroth pulling what appeared to be a wooden sword of some sort from the closet.

“When Rufus gave me an imported Wutaian shinai as a gift, I understood the jab he was making, about being as useful as a practice sword after the War. I just never thought I’d find a use for it,” he said, almost more to the shinai than to Cloud. Then he finally slanted a glance over at him. “Stand, since you’re so partial to it. Bend over the bed, hands on the mattress.”

Cloud swallowed hard again, but this time, he did as he was told. Sephiroth was going to beat him regardless, apparently. He could play along and hope for fewer strikes, or curl up on the floor, impotent but disobedient, and take the hits. He’d go for fewer strikes.

He bent over the bed, but didn’t look back over his shoulder to see what was happening. He closed his eyes and waited. It was pure luck that he was unmarked when Sephiroth received him. They had stopped hitting him the second they realized they would have to call Shinra for help with the local monsters, and given him a few of the potions they had stocked at that. It wouldn’t do to try and pay Shinra with damaged goods; it would take the price lower. They had just been lucky that he finished healing in time. He knew how to take a hit, and he knew that watching didn’t help.

He did jump when he felt the wood touch him, but it was just that: a touch. Sephiroth tapped the shinai to the back of his thighs once. He touched it again, rubbing the skin there for a few seconds. Cloud was sure the third touch would be a strike, but it wasn’t. He was tapped over, and over, and over again, until Cloud finally snapped.

“What are you  _ waiting _ fo— _ ah! _ ”

The hit came so hard Cloud’s knees gave. He had to take his weight on his arms to remain upright until he could get his legs back underneath him.

“There’s that sharp tongue of yours. I knew it was just a matter of time.” Another strike, another cry. “You were never going to stay quiet and submissive forever.” Another strike. “They may have trained you, but not to my standards. They may have bent you enough that you played by their rules, but I will  _ break _ you.” Another strike. “I will see to it that the only hand you ever truly yield to is my own.”

The blows rained down on Cloud for longer than he thought they would have. His arms gave, and he dropped to his elbows. When his knees gave, he was instructed to kneel on the floor with his ass in the air to keep taking the hits. The back of his legs and his ass were ruined by the end of it.

“Sit up.”

Cloud took a deep breath to prepare himself. He wanted to refuse, but his body couldn’t take much more of this. He sat up slowly, trying to hover with his ass suspended above his heels to save himself pain, still gritting his teeth from the contact he couldn’t avoid. He got away with it for only a few seconds before Sephiroth raised a pointed eyebrow and flicked a glance to his hips. Cloud found he was too exhausted for anger and just sank back fully on his heels, doing his best to hide his grimace.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir.” His voice was cracked from screaming. He wondered what the neighbors thought.

“You understand that if I catch you walking, we will repeat this until the lesson sticks.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The more times we rehash any particular lesson, it will be worse than the last. I expect you to learn from your mistakes quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sephiroth walked over to the closet and slid it open. It was wide but shallow, with a shelving unit inside: two shelves behind the left door, a series of narrow shelves in the center, and a high shelf with a rod underneath for hanging tall garments on the right. It was the left door that was open, and Cloud was eyeing the space beneath, hoping he wasn’t about to get the order he knew he was.

“Go inside.”

Cloud hesitated only a moment. He didn’t want to do this, but he couldn’t take another round with the shinai. He crawled over, tasting bile on the back of his tongue at the humiliation of the act, his face and ears burning a bright red. He crawled under the shelf and into the closet. He wouldn’t even be able to sit upright in here. He remained on his hands and knees and looked up at Sephiroth, who was watching him expectantly.

Cloud wanted to beg for anything else. He hated small, dark spaces, had ever since he was a child. His mother had hidden him in a chest, with a space not much larger than this, when the mayor came to take him. He had listened to them argue, about how the town needed him and his mother was being selfish, how she couldn’t afford to take care of him anyway, and his mother’s fervent denials and heated accusations about how he would be treated (she was right). He remembered her shouting as they searched the house for him until they found him in the chest. When they did, the lid was promptly shut again, and he was carried out of the house inside it, screaming and pounding on the sides all the while.

As Sephiroth was shutting the door, he reached out one trembling hand (when had he started to shake?), but didn’t dare try to stop the door. He couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped him as he felt the walls closing in on him as the door slid its way shut. There was a pause, where Sephiroth looked at him closely, reading his terror in every line and curve of him. He looked delighted as he shut the door.

Cloud slumped low to the ground, pressing his face to the floor. He did his best to breathe, just breathe, in through his nose and out through his mouth. He tried not to think about all the other tight spaces he’d been forced into as punishment. He laced his fingers together behind his head and whined quietly, but it wasn’t long before the whines became hyperventilation. It all blurred together after that, into tears and trembling, screaming and shouting, pounding at the door and pleading to be let out.

It eventually faded to nothing, until he woke to a sudden light filling the small, dark space he was terrified of.

He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what was happening. He must have tired himself out and fallen asleep; he’d done that whenever they put him in the chest. He looked into the light to see Sephiroth crouched down in front of him.

“You’re terrified of the closet. Why?”

He’d bared his throat to this man last night in his fear. He hadn’t meant to. He’d known, somewhere deep in the back of his head, that that was a bad idea, but he’d done it anyway. He swallowed hard, afraid of how this would be used against him, but more afraid to be caught in a lie.

“They kept me in a chest to punish me, sir.”

Not the whole truth, but true nonetheless.

Sephiroth looked him over but hummed, accepting the explanation. He stood upright and stepped away, waving for Cloud to come out of the closet. He scrambled out on his hands and knees, and almost stood up, but the screaming pain of his ass and thighs was reminder enough to stay on the floor. He came to kneel in front of Sephiroth, his hands resting in his lap, his head low. He’d be on his best behavior, to keep the man happy, at least for a bit.

Sephiroth took his chin in a firm grip, much as he had when they first met. With no other option, Cloud met his gaze.

“You will crawl and never walk. You will kneel and never stand. Walking, standing, sitting on furniture—these things are for people. Omegas are not people, they are property.  _ You _ are property, bought and sold. Omegas are the lowest classification, and belong as low to the ground as possible. If I crouch, I expect you to find a way to be lower than me. You should always be the closest to the floor. Am I understood?”

Cloud’s head was still foggy from terror and sleep. He wasn’t in the right mindset to get angry about this, as he usually would have. It was why he was calmer, more compliant when he answered.

“Yes, sir.”

The smallest, slowest smile curled at the corner of Sephiroth’s lips. It took Cloud long enough that it had disappeared for him to understand that it meant Sephiroth had noticed his lack of obvious objection to the words. He released Cloud’s chin, and Cloud ducked his head, biting back a curse. If he knew the closet was effective, he’d use it more often.

“Come,” Sephiroth said, and Cloud didn’t protest this time. He just crawled along beside him.

\--

After the first few days, Sephiroth returned to work. He was gone for long hours, which was excellent news for Cloud. With no supervision, he could stand up and stretch his legs. There was nothing for him to  _ do _ , but Cloud was used to it. He walked around, inspecting everything around the apartment as closely as he could without touching. He was very careful about leaving no trace of his clearly out of line activities, and was only up and about them until noon, because he learned that Sephiroth could come home at any point in the afternoon, evening, or night, but was always gone for at least the morning.

The most annoying part was that he had been expressly forbidden from eating on his own, and that was certainly something Sephiroth could keep track of and would discover easily. He was promised his own “bowl,” whatever that meant, when Sephiroth had a chance to buy one. Until then, he knelt at the side of Sephiroth’s chair for meals. He waited until his master finished his own food, at which point an amount of food up to Sephiroth’s discretion was fed to Cloud by hand.

Taking his food directly into his mouth from this man’s hands was infuriating, but when he’d tried to take it with his own hand at first, he had been corrected quickly. He ate with a blush burning on his cheeks and anger burning in his eyes, while Sephiroth watched him, smug and satisfied.

Sometimes, when Sephiroth was gone, Cloud daydreamed about the men his master had mentioned on the first day. The omega with status, the kind-hearted alpha, and the man they had left behind. He wondered how an omega had ever gotten status in the first place, how he had hidden what he was, because certainly he would have been taken by someone if alone and unclaimed. He wondered about how an alpha could suffer a mate with similar status, with the usual power disparity somehow lacking.

He wondered most about the last man. Sephiroth had told him the least about him, only that they weren’t close enough for the man to interfere. He wondered if that meant he would  _ want _ to, if he knew what was happening. Maybe omegas being so clearly owned wasn’t as normal as Cloud thought it was, or as Sephiroth would have him believe it was, if these three would have such a problem. Maybe this man left behind would one day be close enough to visit Sephiroth’s home and would see him, would protest the way he was being kept. It was a nice dream, and it filled the hours when Sephiroth was gone.

He was getting accustomed to things, and they found a sort of calm. Cloud did not try to stand in front of Sephiroth, he spoke only when spoken to. He wore a blanket around his shoulders that could be quickly discarded when he was alone, but was always careful to have it folded and put aside by the time Sephiroth came home. The mayor had taken his clothing as punishment and as training for this often enough that it wasn’t very uncomfortable to him anymore.

The collar was the outstanding issue, and that was odd, because Cloud had worn a collar often, and always expected to wear one again. Nibelheim had given him one that was heavily worn and made of leather, apparently belonging to some other omega at one point. He tried not to think about what happened to the collar’s previous owner as he wore it, but at least it had been a proper collar. Not this one, that chafed and tore at his skin. He didn’t dare complain about it, but he knew the anger on his face grew greater every time Sephiroth reached for it. Which of course meant Sephiroth reached for it more often.

Until one day, he arrived home carrying a box and a bag. He set the bag on a counter and the box next to the door by the time Cloud had crawled out from the kitchen to sit in front of him at his feet. He motioned Cloud closer with a flick of two fingers, so Cloud scooted forward until he was nearly touching his boots. At another gesture, Cloud rose up on his knees, as high as he could go. Sephiroth tugged the collar on his neck low, and Cloud’s anger only faded to curiosity when he noticed he was checking the skin there.

“As I thought. You’re much too breakable like this. It’s something we’ll have to fix.”

“… Sir?”

Sephiroth looked at him sharply.

“What have I told you about speaking out of turn?”

Instead of apologizing, Cloud sank back to his heels and lowered his head in submission. Sephiroth sighed impatiently, but it seemed to be enough this time.

He left Cloud there like that, moving to take the bag into the kitchen. Cloud was given no direction to follow, so he stayed where he was, not daring to move a muscle now that he had put himself on thin ice. He heard a metallic sound as something was set on the tile. Sephiroth returned for the box and went to the bedroom, and only appeared after a minute or two of rustling and clanking with something.

He finally came to Cloud’s side and snapped in his face. He made a circling motion with one finger at his hip. That gesture had infuriated Cloud beyond belief when he first saw it; they’d had a dog (more like barely tamed Nibel wolf pup) when he was a boy, and knew full well it was the hand signal for heel. It had been even more annoying when Cloud had followed the command without having it explained, and Sephiroth gave him that damned smug look again; they both knew he was aware he was following a dog command. His face had burned, but nothing more had been said.

His face still burned whenever he followed it. He stopped blushing at the crawling in general, but this command got under his skin. If Sephiroth had just told him aloud to follow, the humiliation wouldn’t be burning in his gut so bad, but he suspected that was exactly why he’d used the hand signal instead.

Cloud followed at his side until they reached the kitchen, where, next to the table, sat a silver dog bowl. Dread filled Cloud’s stomach, washing it cold. Sephiroth led him directly up to it, then held his palm out in command for him to stop. Cloud sank to his heels, his thighs finally healed enough that he didn’t feel the need to physically grimace at the pain anymore.

“This is your bowl. You’ll eat from this when I’m not interested in feeding you by hand, or when I’m busy. I shouldn’t need to say this, but to be clear, if I see you picking things from it with your hands, I’ll teach you not to the hard way. You do not use your hands to eat. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Cloud said through gritted teeth. He knew how red he was in this moment. He was sickened and humiliated and wanted nothing more than to grab Sephiroth’s ankle where he stood and yank, watching him fall flat on his face.

There was the hand gesture again,  _ heel _ , and Cloud felt his blood boil. He had been trained to be obedient—to be a slave, yes, but never a  _ dog _ . Still, he found himself following Sephiroth at a crawl, until he led him into the bedroom.

To see a dog crate, sitting at the foot of the bed.

Cloud froze when he caught sight, and it took Sephiroth a moment to realize he had stopped following. When he tutted impatiently, Cloud moved again, hurrying to his side to sit where he was expected. But at this point, his heart was racing, his pulse thrumming in his ears, and he was a step away from seeing red. His hands made fists in his lap.

“I take it I don’t have to explain what this is for. From now on, you will sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, instead of at the end of the mattress. That will be for days when you earn it. For days when you earn punishment instead…” Sephiroth placed one hand on the crate. “I have more than one blanket available to cover it, because I know how you  _ love _ small, dark spaces.” His voice was a sweet croon, and Cloud was an inch away from losing his temper. “Of course, if you pull the blanket off, I’ll have to punish you further.” Sephiroth looped a finger in the ring of his collar and tugged, scraping it against the raw skin there. “Am I understood?”

“Crystal  _ fucking _ clear,  _ sir _ .”

Cloud was too angry in that moment to realize what had come out of his mouth until he saw the slow smile take Sephiroth’s face. The next thing he knew, he was pinned to the ground by his throat.

“There we are,” Sephiroth said, his voice that crooning sound again. “I was wondering how much I had to humiliate you before you lost control of yourself. You really are just an animal; no self-control at all.”

Cloud lay limp and prone beneath his hand, knowing full well that Sephiroth could overpower him; he was an alpha, and he had been warned about people with glowing eyes. But that didn’t stop his eyes from narrowing or a cold sneer taking his face.

“Would you tolerate this sort of horseshit?”

He could see Sephiroth’s expression flicker into cold rage for the briefest moment.

(He had. He had suffered this, he had been dehumanized and caged, trapped and brought to heel by the company at large, made to follow any command given. Just because they pretended to let him have autonomy didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of his place. He knew he had no birth certificate; just a deed of sale. Even the omega must have a birth certificate, he would have been treated as a person until he presented, but Sephiroth had been denied even that much. No, he understood exactly what it felt like to be prone on his metaphorical back with a hand around his throat. And it felt so much  _ better _ to be the one kneeling over the helpless figure with someone’s pulse beating against his palm.)

The rage disappeared in an instant, replaced by curiosity. His thumb stroked Cloud’s throat.

“I don’t think I ever asked your name.”

“I didn’t think slaves had names.”

He was asking for it. He was all but begging for trouble, and he was certain he would pay, but the disrespect felt so  _ good _ . If he was to be a dog, he’d lost the ability to bite back, but he could certainly bark.

“Every pet has a name. I’m asking yours.”

“Cloud.”

“ _ Cloud _ .” He almost seemed to taste the name, and Cloud shivered at the sound. “Now, Cloud, you don’t seem to appreciate the gifts I’ve gotten you. You seem very insistent on pretending to be a person.”

“I  _ am _ a person.”

“Mm, and people make decisions, yes?”

“… Yes.”

“Very well. Choose your punishment.”

“… What?”

“Choose your punishment. If you refuse, I will give you whatever I like, and I’m certain you’ll regret it. If you don’t go as far as I feel you deserve, you will get the punishment you chose, and then whatever I’d like on top of it. So, Cloud. What will it be?”

Cloud swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing under Sephiroth’s palm. The anger was starting to fade as the reality of the situation closed in on him. Gaia, he hadn’t even recovered from the last beating. He couldn’t take the shinai again, not on top of his injuries. He had to find a punishment that would hit somewhere different without making it obvious that he was avoiding his injuries.

The obvious choice was to offer the sexual services they both knew would be required of him, but hadn’t been discussed yet. Sephiroth seemed to be in no hurry to get there, and Cloud for one was not about to rush it. There had to be something else. His eyes flicked over the room, until they landed on the display case.

“A dagger. Cut me however you like. Sir.”

“Oh, am I ‘sir’ again?” Sephiroth asked with a lazy smile, but his eyes drifted up to the display case. “‘However I like.’ I want you to remember that you used those words when we’re done. Stay put.”

Cloud swallowed hard a second time under his palm before Sephiroth released him and stepped away. The words were ominous. He couldn’t help but be concerned about what he had gotten himself into.

Sephiroth came back with an ornate dagger in hand. He straddled Cloud, sitting atop his hips, his eyes roaming his bare chest, seemingly trying to make a decision. He pulled the sheath off slowly before he set it carefully to the side.

“This dagger was a prize of war,” Sephiroth told him, trailing the tip over Cloud’s skin now. “It cost me much more than you did. It is a reminder of the prices I paid and that I triumphed in the end. It’s as beautiful as you are, if not more. This knife is much dearer to me than you will ever be. But we’ll see if we can’t increase your value to me with it.

“Stay still.”

Cloud didn’t need to be told. He was already lying as still as he could manage, barely daring to breathe. He kept his breaths shallow, holding his breath when he could. But when he felt the dagger dig in at his collar bone, it was a fight to stay still. When he’d said cut, he hadn’t expected it to be this  _ deep _ . These were going to be permanent scars. He was certain that Sephiroth could give him the highest cure spell he could cast the second after he was done, and there would still be scars left behind. No one in Nibelheim had ever dared to cut so deep, but he supposed they were trying to keep him pristine for a future master. Sephiroth had no such concerns.

He cut something into the skin across Cloud’s collar bone. He seemed very focused, in the bits of time Cloud was actually paying attention through the pain, carefully planning each cut. He was acting more like a sculpture than a butcher, but Cloud couldn’t bring himself to care.

Eventually, he pulled back and wiped the blood away with one gloved hand to examine his work.

“Lovely,” he decided. “Lie there until the bleeding stops. Then get in your crate. Do not let me catch you lying around after the bleeding is done to avoid the crate, or I will keep you in it longer.”

Cloud did as he was told. The crate was about the same size as the space in the closet. He wouldn’t be able to sit up in it, but he fit just fine on his hands and knees. The door remained open, as he had no way to close it, until Sephiroth returned to shut it and pull a blanket over the top without a word. His fingers curled around the bars of the crate and a whimper escaped his throat, his forehead pressed against the rough plastic of the crate’s bottom.

It wouldn’t be until days later that Cloud would happen to glance in a mirror and see what his chest now proclaimed and get furious all over again. It was lucky he found out when Sephiroth wasn’t home, so he couldn’t lose his temper a second time.

His collarbone now read, “Property of Sephiroth.”

\--

When Sephiroth returned home one day with a set of clothes for Cloud, he was admittedly confused. He was even further baffled when he was told to put them on, leaving the collar on underneath the green scarf he was given, and to follow him, walking properly like the person he allegedly was not. He was even given  _ boots _ , which was something Cloud hadn’t been allowed since he was a child. What he dressed in was clearly a uniform of some sort, in blue with the green scarf and a helmet that covered half his face. He could be anyone under the uniform, and he thought that was probably the point.

“You are to follow me. You are to stay silent. You will do as you are told, when you are told to do it. Without question. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sephiroth turned and swept out the door.

Cloud followed at his heel, taking in the surroundings as they went. He had tried to memorize everything as they came up the first time, but he was calmer now than he was then. He wasn’t sure where Sephiroth was taking him, but he had some understanding of his place, now, and how things would go. There was less of an unknown ahead of him.

They passed more people in the Tower than he had seen in Nibelheim in the last decade. It made him feel skittish, and he would deny it if asked, but yes, he clung a little closer to Sephiroth’s shadow than he would have otherwise. When led to a floor with stark, white hallways, he finally relaxed some, but only because it was so empty.

He was led through a waiting room of some sort to a back room, hidden down a maze of hallways. There was a metal operating table and not much else in the room.

“Get on the table and take off your shirt and scarf.”

Cloud was wary, but complied. He wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but he didn’t think this was quite the harmless jaunt that he had originally thought it was anymore. Still, sitting on the table in nothing but his pants, boots, and collar left him feeling more naked than he did in the apartment. He wanted terribly to cover the scabbed over writing on his chest, but thought that would go poorly.

A doctor of some sort came in, holding a clipboard, but he seemed to pay no mind to it. He only gave the briefest glance to Sephiroth before approaching Cloud, looking him over in every way, tutting at the marks on his chest.

“A little obvious, isn’t it?” he asked.

“I never asked for your opinion. I can do the process myself, if you object.”

The doctor waved his hand dismissively, taking Cloud by the chin, much as Sephiroth had, turning his head this way and that. He tugged the collar aside to assess the damage of his throat.

“It isn’t my concern, what you do with your own things. I can understand the desire for a less breakable plaything. If you wreck this one, you may want another to replace it, and who knows if you’ll find one quite as pretty, hmm?”

“Hojo, again, I did not ask for your opinion.”

The man, Hojo apparently, gave a nasally laugh. Cloud did  _ not _ like the way he referred to him as an ‘it.’

“Right. We’ll get on with it, then. Hold it down.”

Sephiroth came to stand behind one end of the table.

“Lie down, arms at your sides.”

Cloud was hesitant, but Hojo was watching, despite how he was puttering around in a cabinet. If he embarrassed Sephiroth by questioning his orders in front of a witness, there would be hell to pay later. He laid down as he was instructed, and tried not to tug against the restraint of Sephiroth’s grip when it came around his wrists and pressed down.

Hojo returned with what seemed to be a case full of mako syringes. Cloud’s blood ran cold. He shot a panicked look up at Sephiroth. He had heard, as a boy, of the SOLDIERs: super-human, their biology enhanced by mako. He had wanted to be one before he presented, and that had clearly stopped being an option as soon as he did. He certainly didn’t want to be enhanced this way: without his consent, seemingly for no other reason than to make him less “breakable.” Were they really going to change him at such a base level, just so he could take more abuse? What the hell were punishments going to be like  _ after _ this was done?

He managed to lie still through the first injection. But it felt like cold fire in his veins, freezing and burning him from the inside out. He gritted his teeth, determined to keep quiet, as he was told. His skin felt overheated and oversensitive, almost like he was in a heat. It made his temples throb, and the light suddenly felt like daggers to his eyes. He squeezed them shut, and couldn’t feel the second needle inserted, but he felt when all the pain got ratcheted up another notch. He never actually felt the puncture of any needle but the first, but he felt the pain grow and grow and grow, seemingly without end.

He didn’t know how many syringes they went through. Surely not the whole case, because that would have been dozens. But he knew by the end of it he was thrashing against Sephiroth’s grip and howling his hurt. It lasted right up until his brain whited out, and then he saw and felt nothing.

He didn’t know how long it was until he came to. He realized he was naked except for the collar. He felt… sticky. Itchy, all over. He groaned and forced his eyes open, despite the way his head was swimming. The light in the room bit into his eyes, worse than any migraine Cloud had ever gotten, though he couldn’t quite focus them yet.

It certainly was not helped by the way something was holding his hair, the grip tightening as soon as his eyes opened. He was finally forced to full awareness as whatever it was that held his aching jaw propped open thrust forward, hard and fast, making him gag.

“You’re finally awake.” Cloud looked up the long line of his body to see Sephiroth watching him, thrusting his cock in and out of Cloud’s mouth almost lazily now. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come out of it. It seems you’re mako sensitive; it took you much longer than it should have for you to come back.” His voice was low and rough in a way Cloud hadn’t heard it before.

Perhaps that had something to do with the way he kept shoving his cock down Cloud’s throat.

He had been trained for this moment. Just because Sephiroth had never asked this of him before didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared for it. He had been trained for every possible sexual situation, and that included this. So he relaxed his throat to the best of his ability, accepting Sephiroth as deep as he could go. And that only made the man rougher. He seemed to delight in the fact that, when Cloud was trying, it took effort to make him gag—and he was certainly trying to. Every time Cloud choked around him he blew out a hard breath, in what Cloud gathered was the closest he allowed himself to moaning.

Cloud, for his part, had been taught to moan around any dick in his mouth. He had been taught to get as close to enjoyment from it as possible. But Sephiroth didn’t know that, and he was too infuriated to aim to please. He’d been using him while he was unconscious and helpless. He would have cooperated and done this without a fight, but the thought that he’d done that while he was  _ asleep _ was galling.

So no, Cloud did not moan for Sephiroth. But he couldn’t fight the fact that his body had been trained to react to giving head. By the time Sephiroth was pulling out and pumping himself hard to come across Cloud’s face, he was so hard he ached; the sight of the large knot forming in his hand that Cloud  _ knew _ would feel so right inside him did not help the situation.

He only barely managed to get his eyes closed in time, but he at least had the sense not to wipe his face clean when he did open his eyes. He stared up at Sephiroth with his poorly concealed rage, and his anger only got worse when he realized that the sticky, itchy feeling across his chest and thighs was dried cum, from however many other times Sephiroth had done this while he was out.

Sephiroth laughed lowly as he put himself away, grabbing Cloud by the hair when he was done and tilting his head up.

“Now  _ this _ is a look that suits you. Your rage completes the image well.”

Cloud ground his teeth together, but said nothing. He continued to say nothing as Sephiroth’s eyes drifted lower and lower to the very clear problem between his legs. He still said nothing as he watched the smug joy cross his face.

“I suppose they trained you better than I thought; and to think, this was to be your punishment for your screaming and thrashing in the labs when I told you to be silent and still. Did you enjoy that?”

It was a direct question, and there was a right answer. He ground his teeth together harder.

“Yes, sir.”

It stung his tongue to say it.

Sephiroth shifted one leg forward, planting his boot against the floor in front of Cloud’s legs where he was kneeling, having been carefully positioned while he was unconscious.

Cloud looked between it and Sephiroth’s face, uncomprehending.

“Well? Take care of it.”

As Sephiroth mirrored him, looking between his boot and Cloud’s face in a clear order, Cloud felt the heat creep up his face along with the indignation. He’d taken enough blows to his pride, would he really be forced to stoop this low?

But Sephiroth’s raised, expectant eyebrow was clear, and Cloud was not eager to find out exactly how much abuse he could now take, after the enhancement.

So, with his face feeling like it was on fire, Cloud shifted forward, spreading his knees to slot the booted foot between his legs. He lowered his weight, feeling the toe of the boot press against his cunt. The leather was soft against him and felt far more pleasant than he would readily admit, especially once his precum and slick smeared enough to ease the motion.

He only got in a handful of experimental rolls of his hips, staring resolutely at Sephiroth’s knee to limit his humiliation, before his hair was grabbed again, his face dragged up. Sephiroth held eye contact, his expression turning expectant when Cloud paused. It was only once he continued that the hungry look came to his eye. He put two fingers to Cloud’s lips, pressing down so his mouth parted, before pressing them inside, as deep as they would go. He had to fight to relax his throat again, but that only turned him on more, and damn Sephiroth for realizing it would. He began fucking Cloud’s mouth with his fingers, much as he had with his cock.

Cloud felt himself getting lost in it and cursed himself as he slipped further and further away. This had always been the easiest way to control him, but it had only gotten worse as his training went. If allowed to seek his own pleasure at the same time, he knew he could be asked for most anything and would do it. Desire went to the forefront of his brain and clogged his thoughts, getting him to do things that he wouldn’t do without at least growing infuriated otherwise. He always blamed it on his heat; they liked to train him during it, making anything he associated with training thereby associated with his heat. The trail of connections flipped a switch in his brain, making him think like he was mid-heat even if his body wasn’t quite in line with the thought. This part of his conditioning had been very thorough.

That was how he ended up moaning around the fingers in his mouth, grinding himself against Sephiroth’s boot, his flush lingering now from pleasure instead of embarrassment. It had been since his last heat that he’d been allowed relief; his training was as complete as it would be, and they felt no need to test it outside his heat, now. He had been pent up for months and he could now only think about how  _ good _ this felt.

It wasn’t long before Cloud was coming, shooting across his own chest and the boot he was humping. The fingers were removed from his mouth and he panted, looking up at Sephiroth still in his daze. When he came down from the high of his orgasm and back to his senses, the flush that had been disappearing returned with a vengeance. The smile Sephiroth gave him was cruel.

“You may be my slave, but I think you’re a slave to your own libido, first. What could I get you to do with the promise of an orgasm, I wonder? Off.”

Cloud was glad the question was rhetorical, because he didn’t want to know the answer. Sephiroth released his hair and allowed him to shuffle back, but didn’t move his foot from where it was.

“Clean me up.”

Cloud paused in confusion, but began to look around for something to do the job with.

“With your tongue.”

He froze.

He turned and looked up at Sephiroth, because surely he couldn’t be serious, but he clearly was. Cloud ground his teeth together and took a slow breath, but moved forward again and set to work.

It was slow. It was humiliating. He was long familiar with his own taste, but never like this. Never off a  _ boot _ . He dragged his tongue over what seemed like every inch, bathing the leather, sure that he would pay if any of his cum was left when he was done. He was certain he cleaned more of the leather than was actually dirty, but he didn’t want to have to do this twice. He felt ashamed enough as it was.

When he finished, Sephiroth pulled his boot away and inspected him. Cloud knew what he looked like, but was trying hard not to think about it. He must look furious, beet red in the face, covered in cum, the declaration Sephiroth carved into his chest on display, the cheap collar around his neck.

Finally, Sephiroth seemed to be finished savoring the sight of him, because he turned and walked away, saying, “Go clean up. You’re disgusting.”

\--

Cloud had been dreading this new addition of sexual usage into their arrangement since before it happened. Now, it was here, and he was dreading it even more. Yet Sephiroth didn’t seem eager to continue pressing the issue. Things went more or less back to normal, after the enhancement. Maybe it really was, as he said, just a punishment.

Or maybe, Cloud thought about a week later as his stomach cramped sharply, the man was either damnably smart or had a much sharper nose than any alpha he’d ever known. Cloud tried to deny that his heat was coming for as long as he could. He knew the stomach cramping and fever well, no one needed to tell him what was happening, but he kept telling himself it must have been something he ate. Sephiroth even let him get away with it, seeming not to notice when his hand would fly to his stomach to clutch at it, or the way he flushed and sweated with fever.

It wasn’t until the heat had truly taken hold that things spiraled. It hit while Sephiroth was at work. Cloud had rushed into the bedroom, not quite daring to nest the way his instinct told him to, not knowing if he would be punished for it, or how bad punishment would be in the throes of his heat. He settled himself on the floor, propped against the foot of the bed, and did his best.

He managed to wait, just hugging his knees, for hours. But eventually it was too much, the sheer  _ need _ overwhelming him and erasing all thought. He tugged at his cock, but found that brought no relief, as it never had before. He tried pulsing one, two, three fingers in and out of his cunt, and that helped some, but very little.

He didn’t even realize it when Sephiroth came home; he was too busy with one hand buried in his pussy, the other on his dick, trying frantically to find some form of relief. He finally,  _ finally _ managed to come, the second he smelled alpha on the air. Once he came down from his high (despite still burning up with need; he may have come, but he found no real relief without a knot in him) his head shot up, realizing what must have happened.

Sure enough, Sephiroth was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, watching him closely.

“Look at you,” he said in a whisper, undoing his coat and coming into the room. “You truly are nothing but a bitch once you’re in heat.”

“Please, sir,” Cloud begged, in his neediest, prettiest whine—the one that always got alphas to give him what he wanted. “ _ Please _ , I need your knot.”

Sephiroth laughed lowly, shucking his coat and tossing it to one side.

“Gaia, but you’re going to be horrified when you’re free of this. I never thought you’d beg so soon, but a heat would do that, wouldn’t it?”

Cloud’s hands were between his legs again, working himself over.

“ _ Please _ , sir, I don’t know how else to beg. I  _ need _ you,” Cloud whimpered, spreading his legs to let Sephiroth see what wasn’t hidden by his hands.

(And Sephiroth was right. When he was in his right mind again, he’d be horrified by his behavior. This wasn’t the front he wanted to present to Sephiroth, the one he had given the man thus far. This was something far weaker, something that infuriated him to admit was something he could stoop to. He absolutely loathed the way he got mid-heat, and the post-heat aftermath would be worse than ever, under Sephiroth’s watchful eye.)

Sephiroth’s pupils were blown so wide they were circles by the time he was kneeling in front of Cloud. He took him by the throat and spun him, pinning him to the floor, Cloud whining as he went. When Sephiroth threw his hands to the side, he left them, no matter how much he ached. Sephiroth growled low in his chest as a warning, but Cloud didn’t need to be told to be obedient. He usually was, but he  _ always _ was during a heat. He was never as pliant as he was with the fire in his veins, and he was quickly going to putty beneath Sephiroth’s hands.

Sephiroth ran his hands up Cloud’s chest before leaning down and mouthing at his scent gland. He tugged lightly at the skin with his teeth and groaned at the scent produced; for all that Cloud was a slave, he smelled heavenly. He always had, but never as intensely as he did in this moment. Sephiroth kissed and licked and sucked and nipped at the gland, getting the scent stronger and stronger until it filled the room.

There were bonds that could form between classifications. There were mutual bonds, where both partners bit at the scent gland hard enough to scar, that would impact both partners. They shared bond sickness, responded at a heightened level to each other’s touch, needed to be around one another for the period after the bond formed.

And then there were one-sided bonds. They worked one way only: a dominant class to a lower classification, and never the reverse. Alphas could bond betas, and betas could bond omegas, but omegas could bond no one unless it was mutual and consent was given, at an instinctual level, from the dominant party. It was common, for slave omegas to be bonded by their alphas. Mutual bonds were considered committed to each other; one-sided bonds were considered nothing but a mark of ownership. It prevented omegas from being attacked on the streets, as other alphas could tell by the scent that they were bonded to another, even if it was not mutual. The omega shared part of the alpha’s scent, though the alpha shared none of the omega’s, as they would in a mutual bond.

No one had ever bonded Cloud, considering it to be his eventual owner’s right, whenever he was sold. He would fetch infinitely less at market if he was already owned in such a way. It was an instinctual urge for many alphas, to turn away from an owned omega. But Sephiroth  _ did _ own Cloud. It was right and proper that he should mark him as such.

And that was what had Cloud moaning his approval and arching up, pressing as much of himself to Sephiroth as he could. He knew his hands weren’t an option; they were put clearly to the side, and he knew enough to keep them where his alpha wanted them. But he bared his throat in the most inviting way he could as he tilted his hips up, brushing himself against the bulge in Sephiroth’s pants.

“ _ Please _ , alpha.”

Sephiroth took one hand and formed it around Cloud’s chin, turning his face to one side and pinning it in place. He nipped more sharply at the scent gland revealed and used his other hand to free himself.

Sephiroth did not, in general, lose control over himself. The rut suppressants stopped his cycle, and he never spent extended time around an omega in heat. But Cloud was  _ very _ much in his heat; the whole apartment reeked of it, from the second he walked in the door. The longer he spent in the area, the closer he was to Cloud, the closer he was to losing control. He might have an iron grip on his own instincts, but there was only so long before that hand slipped. He could feel his rut suppressants being overwhelmed and himself falling further and further back onto his instincts which told him that this was  _ his _ omega, and he needed to make the world know that no one else was allowed to encroach on his territory. Cloud was  _ his _ , rebellious streak or no.

When Sephiroth finally pushed into Cloud, an excess of slick easing the way, Cloud moaned his approval high and loud. He forgot himself, bringing his arms up to clutch at Sephiroth, pulling him closer. He wrapped his legs around his hips and encouraged them to snap forward and further into himself.

Normally, Sephiroth would have protested this. But his instincts read it as a willing omega, who wanted to be one with him, and he was both ready and happy to comply.

The actual sex didn’t take very long. Cloud was so on the edge he came twice before it was done, but Sephiroth was following nearly in the same moment as the second. As he orgasmed, his knot swelling, he bit down, hard and sharp, on Cloud’s scent gland, feeling it give beneath his teeth.

Cloud nearly screamed his pleasure, in a way he hadn’t with the first orgasm. He kept shivering with aftershocks, his body going boneless in the moments between them, when the pleasure returned so strong that he couldn’t help hissing in a sharp breath.

There was a long, long moment after the aftershocks stopped, where Sephiroth’s knot was enough to bring Cloud relief, and bring him back to his senses. He stared up at Sephiroth, who stared back down at him. He quirked an eyebrow, refusing to apologize for what happened, and that was what brought the world crashing in around Cloud’s ears.

“Did you—“ Cloud moaned again, as he clapped a hand to his scent gland, which was exceedingly more sensitive than normal. “Did you  _ bond _ me?”

He was forgetting his manners, his training, his “please” and “thank you” and “sir”, but Sephiroth just seemed lazily amused by it all. He was a little smug, even, as he watched Cloud with bemusement.

“I did. I see no reason why I shouldn’t have. You’re mine, are you not?”

“That’s legal! This is—this is  _ biological _ , you didn’t even  _ warn _ me, I wasn’t even sure you were planning on keeping me!”

“I’m still not sure on that myself.”

“ _ What? _ Then why did you mark me! You know no one will take me but a brothel if I’m bonded!”

Sephiroth shrugged lazily as he swatted Cloud’s hand away, his hand petting Cloud’s throat, his thumb brushing over the scent gland and making him shudder.

“What does it matter to me, who takes you if I decide not to keep you? This is a one-sided bond, Cloud. This is ownership, not partnership.”

“I  _ know _ , but the whole point of an ownership bond is to  _ keep _ the person in question. If you’re not planning on  _ keeping _ me, why did you do it?”

“Because I wanted to.” Sephiroth leaned down, sniffing at the scent gland and giving just the faintest groan. “Because you already smell so much better this way.”

Cloud wanted to slap him upside the head, but even mid-heat, he knew that was much too far. Instead he let his head fall back against the floor, groaning his own frustration.

“I can’t believe this. That was, what, thirty minutes of a heat before you bonded me? Thirty  _ minutes _ into the  _ first _ heat? You couldn’t have  _ waited? _ ”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Sephiroth said, pinning Cloud by the throat to the floor. He went still and pliant under his hand in a heartbeat. “You’re lucky my knot is holding us together, or I’d take this disobedience out of your hide.” Sephiroth gave him a slow smile in the breath of pause before continuing, “But perhaps you can make it up to me, with the rest of your heat. Perhaps by the time it’s over, I’ll feel a little more forgiving.”

Cloud swallowed beneath Sephiroth’s palm. He knew how obedient, how desperate he got during his heat; he didn’t doubt he’d do his part. It was just whether or not Sephiroth actually was moved by his efforts that was up for debate.

And by the time the knot was small enough to slip free, Cloud was more than ready to try again.

\--

Every moment since the bonding that wasn’t blurred by his heat was hellish.

At first, it was hellish because of his shame over his behavior mid-heat, and the way Sephiroth gloated, rubbing his face in his eagerness. It was over his anger at the bond, especially when Sephiroth wasn’t even determined yet to keep him.

But then, the heat was past, and the distraction over. Now, it was just Cloud, Sephiroth, and the bond-setting period.

Sephiroth was the only one out of the two of them with any idea of what was to come. Angeal and Genesis had described it once. A biological desperation to be with the partner, and physical ramifications if they were separated. They hadn’t even been able to separate long enough to go to the bathroom without effects. Sephiroth was glad, now, that he had asked what would happen to a couple that was separated while their bond was setting. He had been alarmed to find out that there was a steep mortality risk for such a thing, not to mention that it would be hell for both partners. The partners had to be allowed to be allowed to be near each other for at least part of the day, every day, or they wouldn’t survive the setting.

Sephiroth was glad he knew. For all that he intended to make this a terrible experience for Cloud, he wasn’t interested in losing his new pet so soon.

The second his heat broke, Cloud was put back in his crate, whimpering as he crawled inside. His fingers reached out of the bars to brush at Sephiroth’s ankles desperately. He could feel the panic set in much sooner than it should have, and wondered distantly at it, not realizing the why. All he knew was that he didn’t want Sephiroth to leave him here.

He whined a quiet, “Please, sir, don’t,” and Sephiroth may have paused to look at him curiously, but it certainly wasn’t enough to change his mind. The blanket went over Cloud’s crate, and the second it settled, he was in a panic.

The panic attack was worse than ever, because it wasn’t just psychological effects this time. There was the instinctual panic of being parted from his alpha in this period. Before half an hour passed, he was drenched in a cold sweat and shivering, huddled low against the floor. He kept feeling these shooting pains zip through him for no reason he could figure out. His muscles cramped painfully, both in his gut and in his limbs. He pulled uselessly at his hair for some form of distraction, but it did nothing to help.

What made him finally realize what was happening, once he was accustomed enough to the pain to think, was the burning in his scent gland. It felt swollen and hard to the touch and burned under his fingertips, scalding at even the slightest pressure. Even when untouched, it throbbed like a brand. When he realized what was happening, he began to clutch at the bars, shaking them slightly.

He called for his master by every name he knew. Sir, master, owner, Sephiroth, general—anything he might answer to. Nothing happened. He begged in a whisper and at the top of his lungs. He tried to explain that the bond was going to set wrong like this.

He carefully  _ didn’t _ explain how it would set wrong. He knew, from horror stories that had been rubbed in his face as soon as he presented, how this would go. He didn’t know about the pain, the fear, the panic, the biological responses, no, but he knew about bonds setting wrong. Nothing broke an omega’s spirit like an improperly set bond. Bonds, when done correctly, even when one-sided, changed nothing about a person.

Bonds set like  _ this _ taught the body instability, that there was no guarantee of safety, that they couldn’t depend on their alpha being present to protect them. It made an omega desperate for their alpha, a constant want to be around them, and a desperate need to please. The body taught the mind to do anything, absolutely anything to keep their alpha happy with them and therefore to keep them. Improperly set bonds broke wills like glass beneath a man’s heel.

Few things terrified him like not being able to at least hate Sephiroth.

But as time passed, he could feel that slipping away from him in spurts. Sephiroth let him out a few times a day to relieve himself and take a single daily shower while he was out of the crate. When he was allowed even that close to Sephiroth, he lost all his good sense. It didn’t happen immediately. The first few times out of the crate, he was relatively normal. His spirit remained the same, but the pain and desperation faded with Sephiroth’s presence like a balm to the burn of his scent gland. He was so calm he felt nearly boneless, and it rendered him completely compliant. It was hard to raise a fuss when he finally felt painless and at ease after hours of torture.

The first spell when his sense truly left him was the worst. It was like a switch had been flipped. Sephiroth approached the crate and Cloud whined loudly at the sound of the approaching footsteps, crowding as close to the exit as he could. Sephiroth pulled off the blanket, and Cloud blinked at the sudden light, but was crawling out of the gate as soon as it was open. Instead of going and sitting back on his heels in a waiting position as he usually did, he crowded close to Sephiroth.

He was purring loudly, something he hadn’t done since his first heat years and years ago. He lowered himself and nuzzled at Sephiroth’s booted ankles, his hands light around the heels. He began kissing and licking the leather, just so infinitely  _ grateful _ to be around his alpha again.

“Cloud?”

Cloud leaned away and looked up at Sephiroth, finally sitting back on his heels. His expression was dazed and pleased; allowed near, and called by name? It was a fantastic day.

But Sephiroth was looking down at him in confusion.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“Nothing, sir,” Cloud said, blinking at the odd question.

“You aren’t yourself,” Sephiroth explained, when he didn’t seem to be grasping at what he was asking.

Cloud smiled dreamily and said, “I’m just happy to be near you, sir.”

Sephiroth looked down at him in bewilderment, but said nothing more, leading him from the crate to the bathroom to take care of himself.

He continued to wonder about it while Cloud used the restroom and showered, but decided not to worry about it yet. He lingered in the bathroom for the affair; he had learned after the first time that Cloud would get destructive in his panic if left in the bathroom by himself during this setting period. More than one glass had to be replaced because it had been knocked off the counter in Cloud’s scramble to reach the closing door. He remained calm when Sephiroth stayed in the bathroom, and this time, he even continued purring, right up until Sephiroth led him back to the crate. There, he balked, looking up at Sephiroth with an absolutely pleading expression, the kind of pure begging Cloud never stomached. Sephiroth looked at him oddly, but when he jerked his chin toward the crate, Cloud obediently crawled inside.

He wrestled with the problem as Cloud built himself from whimpering to whining to howling and then back down. He clearly didn’t know everything there was to know about bond setting, but he had thought he knew enough. He knew this process, if done this way, would be hell for Cloud, and that had been the point. Partially for his attitude when he found he was bonded, and partially for the fun of it. He had decided, then, to do more research, and what he found about improperly set bonds was  _ certainly _ intriguing.

When he finished his research, he went to the crate and threw the blanket back. He crouched down in front of it, and while Cloud looked sullenly up at him and grasped the bars, he did not purr, nor did he look delighted. This was the Cloud he knew.

“Did you know, then, what would happen, if the bond set this way?” Sephiroth asked, looking his pet over carefully.

“Yes, sir,” Cloud grumbled, not wanting to answer but unwilling to lie.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I  _ tried _ , sir; I told you it would set wrong.”

“Perhaps, but you did not say  _ how _ .”

At this, Cloud remained silent. They both knew he didn’t want Sephiroth to have that power over him, to be able to make that choice for him.

Sephiroth hummed, his head tilting to one side, causing his hair to spill like a waterfall. It was distracting to Cloud in this state, who, even with his desperation at a reasonable level for the moment, found Sephiroth appealing in a way he never did. Gaia, but he  _ smelled _ so good, too.

“Had you told me immediately, I would have made a different decision. I like your fight, you see. I was looking forward to breaking you the hard way. But,” Sephiroth said, raking his eyes over Cloud, “now that I’ve seen what you will become, I think we  _ will _ do it this way. To know what you will become is satisfying, but to know that it will happen in  _ spells _ is delightful. This way, you will lose yourself, but you will have to watch it happen. There will be all these hours in between, where I leave you alone, to your pain and to your thoughts, to consider what is happening to you. So that you will be present of mind and properly horrified, knowing what you will become while helpless to stop it.  _ That _ is far more appealing to me.

“So thank you, Cloud. You made an  _ excellent _ choice. Just, perhaps not one in your best interests. Though, from the looks of things, you will be  _ much _ happier, once this is all complete. Not that I believe you  _ want _ happiness on such terms, but we have to live with our mistakes, don’t we?”

“Sir,  _ please _ , reconsider—”

Sephiroth favored him with a low chuckle, and it sent a shiver down Cloud’s spine, only he couldn’t be sure if it was from pleasure or fear.

“Oh,  _ hardly _ , Cloud. I’m quite set on this path. Enjoy your slow descent into becoming the perfect pet. I certainly will.”

With that, Sephiroth flipped the blanket back over the crate, and he could hear Cloud rattle the bars.

“Sir! No! Please, wait, just—anything else,  _ please!  _ I’ll be perfectly obedient, just don’t change who I am!”

Sephiroth left without another word.

\--

It was a slow descent into madness. In reality, it took all of a week since the first spell for the bond-setting period to be completed. But, left alone in the dark, with his nerves and instincts aflame, the desperation was overwhelming. Either he was desperate for an escape from the decision Sephiroth had made, or for Sephiroth’s presence, and there was no reprieve.

He wished that he blacked out for the spells where he became Sephiroth’s perfect pet. But, no, he had full recollection in all the terrible, glorious detail he could ask for. Sephiroth allowed longer and longer periods of them being together, which eased the physical pain, and during the spells he was delighted. At times, he’d even allow Cloud to sit at his feet, his hand carding through Cloud’s hair as he purred his contentment loudly.

One afternoon, with the sunset light slanting low through the wall of windows in the bedroom, Sephiroth sat on the bed and pulled Cloud into his lap, his hands roaming. He had mouthed at Cloud’s scent gland and it brought instant relief to the scalding pain there. When he bit down, Cloud saw stars. It was like he was in heat all over again, only without the fever. The need was certainly there, as he squirmed in Sephiroth’s lap, begging for his knot. After working him up well past the point of desperation, Sephiroth had given him exactly what he asked for. While they were still bound together, Sephiroth continued to jerk Cloud off, over and over and over again, until he wanted to beg him to stop but was too blissed-out to find the words. It was only when they were both covered in Cloud’s release and he finally shot dry that Sephiroth wiped his hand clean in Cloud’s hair.

He had leaned in and nuzzled the scent gland with his nose, breathing deep. When he laughed, Cloud could feel it against his skin.

“You are going to hate yourself so  _ much _ when you come back,” Sephiroth had promised, delight in his tone, and he had been right.

After each spell, but particularly that one, Cloud’s self-loathing grew deeper. He hated everything about who he was about to become but could find no way to stop it. He mourned the impending death of his actual self.

There seemed to be no end to the grief, but Sephiroth didn’t mind at all. When Cloud had wept his misery, Sephiroth had stalked into the room and demanded Cloud suck him off through the bars of the crate. His work had been sloppy, because he couldn’t get himself to stop sobbing, but the sight of his tears seemed to be enough to have Sephiroth finishing across his face.

Cloud mourned the loss of himself, but Sephiroth hadn’t thought to do the same. Cloud was infinitely aware of his own change, creeping up on him like the dawn. Sephiroth was not aware of his own changes.

He’d always been merciless. He’d been taught to be such under Hojo’s hand and had the lesson cemented in Wutai. He had been hard with Cloud from the start. But the slow progression had been for a reason, and while Sephiroth tried to tell himself that it was a strategic plan to break Cloud, that wasn’t quite the case.

There had been some remnant of the man he had been before he lost Genesis and Angeal remaining when he first got Cloud. His words had been like whips, his promises knives, but his actions hadn’t been as harsh as many other omega owners he knew—he was well aware that Scarlet’s didn’t fare so well. But the more he took from Cloud, the more he came to hunger for the next interaction. He took his speaking privileges, his walking privileges, his dignity in every way he knew how.

It was opening up a vast, yawning pit inside his chest that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to fill. Something in him craved doing to another what had been done to him. It felt like taking back his own power, like taking the control he had never had. He might be Shinra’s plaything, but Cloud was his, and he could be just as cruel a master as his own. He had been taught how to own a person under Shinra’s tender hand, and now he was applying the lesson, and it felt  _ good _ . Better than anything ever had.

He ached to crush Cloud the way he had been crushed, and each step of the process gave him a sick thrill he could find nowhere else.

It made him insatiable. When this had all begun, he was not a man who could orgasm at the sight of someone else’s tears. He had been harsh, perhaps, but not that cruel. But this was becoming less about the fact that he was able to own another person and more about enjoying Cloud’s suffering—the more extreme, the sweeter. Every time he pushed Cloud’s limits, he pushed his own, and that was a cliff he was happy to throw himself over while dragging Cloud down with him.

He had never believed omegas to be lesser; not the way Scarlet, and the President, and Heidegger did. He knew Genesis too well for that. It wasn’t some inherent trait in them, and Cloud’s position was certainly not any person’s purpose. He gave Cloud lines justifying his treatment with his omega status because Cloud seemed to expect them, and the more he said them, the more he was starting to believe it was true, and that Genesis had just been an exception. He’d always been indifferent to the plight of omegas—he was a caged bird and didn’t see why they deserved rescuing if he did not—but this was veering away from indifference and into disdain.

But he knew no one who might care how he treated Cloud. Zack might protest, but Sephiroth was drawing further and further away from his fellow First, as he got more and more wrapped up in Cloud. He was so focused on his pet, and so satisfied in watching his progression, that he felt no need to seek Zack out. He did his work and he came home. Zack’s texts sat unread in his inbox.

Sephiroth was once a man worthy of respect, if not quite honorable. The longer he was with Cloud, the further away from that man he went.

So when Cloud finally stopped holding back, toward the end of the setting period, he did nothing but sigh happily at the sounds of his howling. Either he was wailing, finally tired of trying to pretend he wasn’t in tears and unable to restrain his grief as the end grew close, or he was cursing at the top of his lungs, wishing every manner of ill onto Sephiroth and calling on obscure gods to smite him.

No one struck him down, but one day, the howling stopped. There was no more wailing and there was no more cursing. When he realized the silence had hung too long, he went to go check on Cloud. The second he flipped back the blanket, Cloud began purring loudly. The look in his eyes was adoring as he stared up at Sephiroth, his gaze nearly worshipful. He scooted closer to the front of the crate, clearly hoping to be let out.

Sephiroth smiled and let the blanket drop.

He would miss the old Cloud. He liked his spite and his temper and his rage. But part of the process of crushing anything was that there was a point where there would be no more give. Where the throat under his hand was useless and the eyes in the head attached went glassy. Ever since he decided to deliberately set the bond wrong, knowing the consequences, he had known this point would come.

All that was left to see was if his desperation to please would be as satisfying as his anger.

\--

He had known, since he discovered what an incorrectly set bond looked like, that Cloud would become his perfect pet, regardless of his thoughts on the matter. He had known, but it was a different thing to see it.

Cloud seemed happy to do anything, so long as he was by Sephiroth’s side. He could read nothing but bliss on his face when he ordered him to heel and crawl at his side, he was content to eat from the dog bowl and delighted to be fed by hand, nearly glowing with the attention involved. He no longer spoke out of turn. When told to get himself off by humping Sephiroth’s boot, he’d all but scrambled to comply in his eagerness. His fingers brushed the scars on his chest absently with a soft smile on his face.

He seemed to love being ordered, because it was an opportunity to make Sephiroth pleased with him. There seemed to be nothing Cloud was unwilling to do, now. No matter the order, Cloud complied to the best of his ability.

It was almost a shame. He was running out of excuses to punish him. And while it was delightful to see Cloud’s joy at paltry things like being allowed to sleep curled up at the foot of the bed, he needed to punish him; it was the last test to see if he was broken.

His excuse, in the end, was a poor one. He had asked Cloud to choose his preference: he could sit under the table with Sephiroth’s cock in his mouth, or he could clean his boots with his tongue as Sephiroth ate. Cloud had chosen to keep his cock warm, but it hadn’t mattered, because there was no right answer.

He explained to Cloud that his answer had been incorrect. Omegas did not have opinions, and he should have deferred to his master; never mind that he’d been given a direct order to choose. Sephiroth had no qualms about setting Cloud up for failure.

When he’d explained what he did wrong, Cloud looked crestfallen. He’d immediately supplicated himself, groveling at Sephiroth’s feet until Sephiroth set a boot to his shoulder and shoved, making him go sprawling back. He was quick to return to his position, his forehead to the floor.

“What do you think, Cloud? Should we use the shinai? I’m sure you’ve missed it; it’s been a while.”

Cloud whined but muttered, “Yes, please, sir.”

“Come along, then.”

Sephiroth led Cloud to the bedroom and told him to get on his hands and knees on the bed, high enough to be at a good height for Sephiroth’s swing, but without the privilege of standing. Cloud climbed up onto the bed immediately and was in position before Sephiroth returned with the shinai.

They hadn’t done this since before Cloud was enhanced. Sephiroth didn’t hold back his strength out of fear of breaking Cloud, so much as to not break the shinai. He aimed for the back of Cloud’s thighs, hitting the same areas over and over again, watching the skin turn pink and then bloom into reds and purples. He watched as the skin gave and split under the repeated impacts. He watched the blood run down Cloud’s thighs and onto the bed and felt a deep thrill at the sight.

He had Cloud count his strikes, but was hitting hard enough that he knew he would lose track. He did so repeatedly, at which point Sephiroth would start over. He told Cloud that it was only when he made it to fifty that they would stop, and that it didn’t matter to him what state he was in by the end of it.

Somewhere along the line, Cloud’s arms gave out, and by the time they made it to fifty counted strikes, his chest and face were pressed to the sheets to hold him up. His legs were trembling and ruined at the back. Between one beat and the next, Sephiroth was at his side, running one possessive hand up his back.

“Look at you; you’re a wreck. Furthermore, you’ve wrecked the bedspread by bleeding on it. You understand that I’ll have to clean it now, because of you. That cannot go unpunished.”

Sephiroth could imagine what the old Cloud would have done. The look of barely constrained fury on his face, the indignation and outrage. It was clearly Sephiroth’s fault that he was bleeding, and it was unfair to punish Cloud for it, and his expression would have said as much. There was a fair shot he would have even sniped at Sephiroth for it, in his barely controlled way.

That wasn’t what happened.

Cloud looked up at Sephiroth from where his face was pressed to the mattress, his expression baleful. He didn’t seem afraid of the punishment, so much as heartbroken to have disappointed. The quiet whine he gave was wounded, but not in a way that spoke to his physical pain.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Sephiroth’s eyes widened. He blinked down at Cloud and then began to laugh. He laughed longer and harder than he intended to, than he had in quite a while.

Yes, the Cloud he knew was gone.

Still smiling some, Sephiroth ran his hand up Cloud’s ruined thighs, listening to him hiss in pain, to sink his hand between his legs. As expected, when he pressed a finger into Cloud, it was to find him soaked. Nibelheim truly had trained him better than he gave them credit for.

“You’re going to take the shinai,” Sephiroth said, thrusting his hand forward to make it clear where he meant. “I’ll stop fucking you with it only once you come on it. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

Sephiroth shifted over and lifted the shinai from where he had set it on the bed. He proceeded to ease it into Cloud, aware of the way the edges of the cap on the end would catch unpleasantly. After the initial penetration, he was rough, and fucked Cloud far too deep with it. This was meant to be a punishment, after all. Cloud keened, a mixture of pleasure and pain in his voice as his back arched.

It was quite a while before he managed an orgasm.

If the whole thing hadn’t been enough to cement to him that the Cloud he had originally gotten was gone, the fact that he mumbled a quiet, “Thank you, sir,” at the end of it would have.

Now that he was convinced that the Cloud he had was truly as desperate to please as he had thought, he could really set to work.

He wasn’t sure where either his limits or Cloud’s were. But he was determined to find them.


End file.
